


watch the empire fall

by restless5oul



Series: yesterday we were just children [6]
Category: Formula 1 RPF, GP2 Series RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arguing, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Gun Violence, Like Really Heavily, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Language, Panic Attacks, Relationships heavily implied, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 08:38:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11847942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restless5oul/pseuds/restless5oul
Summary: “well i’m sorry but i don’t want to end up with someone else’s blood on my hands. if you’re willing to take that risk then by all means, go ahead.”





	watch the empire fall

**Author's Note:**

> yikes. this one got long. again.   
> we're back to the angst.  
> we get to meet some new characters tho!  
> and some things get resolved!  
> but a lot goes wrong as well.

Looking back, Charles should have guessed this would have caused arguments, and part of him wished he had never suggested it. But that was the beauty of hindsight. It didn’t help him at all when he was sat listening to Mick and Juan arguing, both of them so stubbornly adamant that they were right, and obviously not listening to what the other had to say. Neither of them seemed aware that he was even sat there, or that Jüri had left the room about five minutes ago and returned a couple of minutes later cradling the last bowl of dry cereal. They sat on opposite sides of the room, the pair of bickering boys in between, neither of them able to look away from the scene in front of them.

 

In some ways, Charles was surprised that it had taken this long for a real argument to break out. While Mick and Juan tended to snap back and forth regularly, and everyone got on each other’s nerves at times, there was rarely anything really meant by it. But he could tell from the fiery look that burned in Mick’s eyes, and the hard set of Juan’s jaw, that they weren’t faking it this time.

 

It had all started because of Charles anyway. If anyone should have been the source of anyone’s anger, especially Mick’s, then it should have been him. But instead the German had chosen to direct it all at Juan. The dilemma of how they would go out and find more food when they didn’t know where to find any was always bound to be difficult, and Charles wished he’d never said;

 

“I think we should all go together.”

 

Perhaps it was because he believed in safety in numbers, or his previous experience had made getting split up the last thing he wanted to happen, again. He didn’t want to sit waiting around, not knowing if the others would come back. And equally, he didn’t want to leave anyone with the agony of not knowing. The agony he experienced everyday when his mind was inevitably drawn to thoughts of Pierre and where he might be.

 

Juan had agreed with him.

 

“It’ll be safer if we’re all together, especially if we’re going somewhere new.”

 

But Mick hadn’t seen it that way.

 

“I don’t want to put more people in danger than is necessary.”

 

Charles could see his point. But he also wanted to point out that the hotel wasn’t necessarily always going to be the safest place. There was no guarantee that the door wasn’t about to be broken down at any moment by zombies or desperate humans – both as dangerous as the other. But before he said anything else, Juan had jumped in with some comment about him being overly cautious. And then the back and forth had begun.

 

“We can’t hide away forever Mick!” Juan said, raising his voice just a little, “And we can’t stay here either. We need to see what else is out there.”

 

“I’m not having someone get hurt on my watch!” he shouted back, his tightly curled fists a sure sign of his frustration.

 

“It’s not _your_ watch though! We’re all in this together,” Juan rolled his eyes, before mumbling, still loud enough for everyone to hear, “You don’t have to be in charge of fucking everything.”

 

“I’m not in charge,” Mick replied, his voice low, folding his arms, making himself look a little petulant. What Juan saw as him being bossy, Charles could tell was Mick pre-emptively blaming himself for anything bad that might happen to any of them. While he did like to take charge, this wasn’t one of those occasions.

 

“Well you could have fooled me, you’re such a control freak nowadays!” Juan was back to shouting, and their argument – which so far have revolved around the pros and cons of each side of the argument – seemed to have regressed into petty insults. Feeling a lot more uncomfortable than he had a moment ago, Charles watched the flash of hurt on Mick’s face which was quickly absorbed by a colder look.

 

“As opposed to what?! A reckless moron?” Mick was over exaggerating now, but that didn’t seem to occur to him.

 

“Oh come on,” Juan scoffed, assuming an air of arrogance that was almost certainly a defence mechanism, “Get your head out of your arse.”

 

“Well I’m sorry I don’t want to end up with someone else’s blood on my hands. But if you’re willing to take that risk then by all means, go ahead.”

 

Mick seemed to realise what he had said as soon as the words left his mouth. Juan’s face paled rapidly, the colour draining from it, a painful mixture of anguish and anger lighting up his eyes. Charles knew Mick hadn’t been thinking of Juan’s parents when he had said that, but it was where all of their minds had gone.

 

“Sorry we can’t all be as perfect as you,” he snarled, and when he took a step towards Mick, Charles stood up. Words were bad enough, but he couldn’t sit there and watch them throw punches at each other. Getting over the awkwardness of watching the two of them fight, he stepped in.

 

“Hey!” he yelled, drawing the three heads in the room towards him, all of them freezing, trying to speak with as much authority as he could muster, “That’s enough.”

 

Caught under his glare, Mick dropped his head, looking extremely sheepish, while Juan just looked away, folding his arms so tightly that Charles was worried he might crack a rib. On the far side of the room Jüri was blinking at them owlishly over the top of his bowl before he came to his sense and stood too, approaching the rest of them silently, standing a little way back, but just close enough that they all knew he was there.

 

“Juan I didn’t-,” Mick started, trying to catch his friend’s eye.

 

“Save it,” Juan snapped, so venomously that it made Charles flinch.

 

A tense silence lapsed over the four of them, all of them avoiding eye contact. Tempers ran high, they all knew that, and the hunger and restlessness just heightened that. They were still just kids, ill-equipped to deal with the situation that they had been forced into. Of course they were going to get things wrong. Eventually it was Jüri who spoke up, clearing his throat nervously.

 

“Maybe we should just take a vote,” he suggest tentatively, pulling at the sleeves of the jumper he slept in, covering his hands with the stretched wool, “We don’t have enough food to last us until tomorrow barely.”

 

“I think that’s a good idea,” Charles nodded, looking for some reaction from the boys stood in front of him. Neither said anything.

 

“Okay…Those in favour of all of us going together?”

 

Juan raised his hand instantly, as did Jüri, with Charles doing so last. He didn’t fail to spot the look of betrayal that Mick sent his way. But it had been his suggestion in the first place, Mick should have known which side he would agree with. It still stung.

 

They set off without so much as a word of protest from Mick. But he did insist that they brought enough supplies in case they couldn’t make it back, as well as a weapon each. Him and Jüri carried the guns, while Juan was left with the axe, and Charles had the knife, feeling a little nervous about the prospect of having to use it. Fleetingly, he also remembered that a knife, very similar to the one he held in his sweaty grip, was all Pierre had on him when he’d been attacked and Charles had run. He quickly stashed it away in the side pocket of his backpack, preferring it out of sight unless he really had to use it.

 

Jüri was the one who devised a vague route for them to follow, knowing the area better than most of them. While it wasn’t too far from Charles’ home, his memory was cloudy, and the devastation that was so evident on the streets made it harder to recognise. Juan and Jüri led the way, the two of them walking close together, heads leaning towards the other, talking in low voices, Jüri’s hand occasionally moving to pat his shoulder comfortingly. Mick was completely silent from where he walked beside Charles, several steps behind the others, so utterly lost in his own thoughts. Part of Charles felt like he might prefer to be left alone, but somehow he couldn’t quite bring himself to. Running his hand through his hair, he wracked his brain for something to say, something to pull Mick from the guilt of what he had said, or the annoyance he still felt towards Juan, or his frustration at being outvoted, but there didn’t seem to be anything that would do justice. In the end it was Mick who spoke first.

 

“I didn’t mean what I said to Juan. Not like that anyway,” he mumbled, still looking down, but obviously aware that Charles had heard him.

 

“I know you didn’t.”

 

“It was a stupid thing to say,” he continued, sounding dejected, “I wouldn’t ever say-…not about that. Never.”

 

“Mick I know, I believe you,” Charles insisted, offering a small smile of support when he eventually looked up, “Juan knows that too really, he’s just hurt.”

 

“I should apologise,” Mick said and both of them looked ahead to see Juan explaining something to Jüri, his heads gesturing wildly and fiercely, swinging the axe around a little precariously, his voice too low for them to make out the words. He didn’t seem to have calmed down much though.

 

“Maybe later,” Charles suggested, watching as Jüri reached to hold Juan’s hands steady, half to stop him decapitating either of them, but also to soothe him. He watched as he held on for a second longer than was necessary, and even from a distance he could see how Juan visibly softened at his touch. His heart lurched a little at the sight, maybe with a little longing for that same kind of intimacy and obvious affection. And maybe also because he could see them both teetering on the edge of something more. But he could see they weren’t there yet either.

 

“Yeah,” Mick nodded and from his expression Charles could tell that he was watching the boys in front of them with a similar thought process.

 

“Being out here gives me the creeps,” Charles said after a lengthy pause. The roads were too familiar, too much like home. But the emptiness sent a shiver up his spine. It gave the impression that they were being watched, eyes peeking out from behind half closed curtains. It was so wrong for a city usually bursting with life and teeming with activity, the stillness didn’t suit it. And neither did the deafening quiet.

 

“I don’t like it either,” Mick agreed frowning, he took a breath, like he was about to say something else, but stopped short.

 

Charles saw that look on his face so often, like he was about to open up, but fear took over, and he closed himself off again. Jüri had told him on several occasions that he was like that even with him and Juan, and had been before Charles had joined them. And he couldn’t imagine how much he was keeping bottled away, all these months later. They all had their moments, when everything became too much, and they had to let go. But never Mick.

 

“What?” Charles prompted.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“No, what is it?”

 

“It’s nothing honestly.”

 

“Come on, you can trust me,” Charles insisted. Mick eyed him for a moment, like he was studying him. But they had known each other so long now. And just a day in this mad new world seemed so much longer than it had before, “Trust me.”

 

“Do you ever wonder if it’s the same everywhere else?” Mick asked, still with that same look in his eyes, “Or if it’s just England that’s like this.”

 

“All the time,” Charles answered instantly. His mind was immediately drawn to his old home in France, his heart breaking to imagine the scene of so many childhood memories sitting ransacked and dilapidated. And his grandparents’ house surrounded by its vast swathes of countryside, so far from food, and anyone who might be able to help if there was trouble.

 

“I hope it’s not,” Mick said, “I hope no one else has to live like this.”

 

“Me too.”

 

There was another bout of silence.

 

“My sister,” Mick eventually said, and there was a look on his face that he could tell meant he had so much to say, but in the end, he settled for saying one thing, “Her name’s Gina.”

 

Charles didn’t know why it meant so much to him that he had spoken those few words. But the one tiny piece of information, the slightest sign that Mick could let go, and open up, it was everything. There wasn’t really anything he could say in return, so he just smiled at Mick.

 

“Do you know what Jüri said to me the other day?” Mick suddenly seemed to remember something, a wistful look of amusement appearing on his face as he chuckled, though it seemed to be more out of nervousness than humour.

 

Before Charles could ask, he was interrupted by a shout from the boy they were just discussing.

 

“Hey guys!” Jüri called, before Juan smacked him on the arm, motioning for him to keep quiet. Instead of shouting his news at them, he just beckoned for the two of them to come closer, closing the gap that had somehow grown considerably.

 

“In here?” he asked, once they had walked over, pointing right in the direction of a tall grey building, a brightly colour sign on the wall telling them that it was a high school.

 

“A school?” Charles asked, sceptical.

 

“Yeah! There was loads of food at the hotel when we first got there, and plenty of stuff that would have lasted. Plus, it might not all be gone, people might not think to look,” he explained, looking excited, probably at the prospect of a decent meal finally. And the discovery of food might lead to a drop in tensions between Juan and Mick; who were still avoiding each other’s gazes.

 

“It’s worth a look,” Charles shrugged, looking at the two boys next to him to judge their reaction.

 

“Why not?” Juan said, while Mick just nodded.

 

Taking that as their cue, Mick led the way into the building, gun raised, his senses suddenly on high alert. Juan brought up the rear, with Jüri and Charles in between them, trying desperately not to breathe too loudly or trip as they made their way through the reception. There were no visible signs that anyone had been there in the months and months since it had presumably been abandoned. No shattered glass, no broken down doors, no trails of blood or scattered bullets. Not whiff of that tell-tale smell, pungent and acidic, that told them that there had once been people here, but they were dead, or worse off now. The door creaked loudly as Mick pushed it open, and all of them froze, listening, but there was no noise in response.

 

“The canteen is that way,” Jüri whispered, pointing at a sign just to their left, and Mick lead the way again, moving stealthily but as quickly as he could.

 

The overturned tables and chairs in the canteen indicated that there had been some sort of panic, many a scramble to get to the door as news had spread of what was going on behind the four walls thousands of students must have been kept in. With an unpleasant melancholy, the room reminded Charles a little of his own high school which he had left only a year ago. But days filled with last minute homework and football team trials and helping his friends cheat on their French exams seemed a lifetime ago.

 

“Wait,” Mick whispered suddenly, holding his hand up for the rest of them to stop, which they managed to do, only bumping into each other marginally.

 

“What is it now?” Juan managed to keep his voice quiet, but there was no hiding his impatience, both with Mick and the hold up.

 

“I thought I heard something,” Mick answered, his own voice tired, like he was struggling to keep his emotions towards Juan in check. Charles glanced about, but could see nothing in the half lit room. The lights were almost all blown out, apart from the dim ones on the wall that seemed to run off an emergency power supply, but from the sunlight coming through the window he could just make out Juan’s scowl.

 

Mick made to move into the kitchen, clearly intending on leaving the rest of them behind.

 

“Stop trying to play the hero,” Juan snapped, almost at speaking volume by this point, marching to stand beside Mick, none too kindly pulling him back by the arm.

 

“I’m not. I was just checking if-,” he shook himself free from Juan’s grip, the frustration now evident on his face. Charles could see the two of them working themselves up to a full blown argument again.

 

“Give me a break,” Juan rolled his eyes, cutting across his friend, “I don’t know who you’re trying to impress.”

 

“What’s your problem?” Mick barked, shoving Juan as the rest of them watched on, a little stunned, “I’m sorry about what I said earlier but you know I didn’t mean it. You don’t need to act like an asshole to prove a point.”

 

“To prove a point?” Juan said incredulously, his volume rising, pushing Mick back, “That’s all you think this is?!”

 

Charles would never get to hear what clever response Mick had for that, because the ear-splitting sound of gunfire rang out, not coming from them, but aiming for them. And it wasn’t at all like he had been taught by movies and books.

There was no slow motion where he had time to cover himself, to pull the knife from his bag, no time to even think. It was just chaos, outside and inside of his head. Blindly he threw himself to the floor, feeling a bullet whizz past his ear, so close he could feel it move the air as it sailed through. He grabbed at Jüri as he fell, trying to force him to the ground. The gunfire didn’t stop and he knew he had to move.

 

The table they were ducked behind offered little cover, so pulling Jüri with one hand, he crawled. His heart pounded, and he fought the urge to screw his eyes shut, just waiting for it to pass, like he could wish it all away. Keeping as low as possible, one arm shielding his head, he tried to ignore the sound of metal ricocheting around him, impossible to know where the guns were aiming, or where they were even coming from.

 

It was only once he had worked his way behind the serving counter, the higher, thicker shelter offering more cover did he see the blood on his hand. He didn’t feel any pain, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins was so powerful he wasn’t sure if he was able to. But when he looked at the boy slumped next to him he realised that it wasn’t his. Jüri’s right shoulder was covered in blood, his white t-shirt stained where he had thrown off his jacket. He didn’t seem to realise it fully either as he looked down, his face as shocked as Charles’ surely was. Only when another shot rang too close and they both flinched, trying to force themselves lower, did he wince, his face paling.

 

“Charles,” Jüri gasped, looking terrified and desperate, and Charles did the first thing he could think of, pressing both his hands to his friend’s shoulder, pressing hard, trying not to let go when he cried out. The feeling of warm blood, wet against his palms, tangibly oozing from the wound, was enough to make him want to throw up, but he persisted. Jüri grabbed at his arms with his hands, whether trying to relieve the pain or tell him something he couldn’t tell. His mouth was shut tight, his teeth gritted as he fought not to scream.

 

“Oh my god,” Juan seemed to appear from nowhere, slumping down next to Jüri looking more scared than Charles had ever seen him before. His hands were at his friend’s face in an instant, whispering things Charles couldn’t hear from the sound of gunfire echoing around them. They needed to do something. Whoever it was shooting at them didn’t sound like stopping. The shotgun which had fallen off Jüri’s shoulder lay at his side, useless.

 

“Juan!” he shouted, making sure he had his attention, “You need to put pressure on the wound okay?”

 

Juan nodded, and Charles knew from the look on his face that there was no way he wasn’t going to do everything he could for the boy who sat between them. If the look on his face when he’d first seen him hadn’t confirmed that, then the tears which were building in his eyes certainly did.

 

Waiting until Juan was ready, Charles moved away, and scrambled to reach the gun, trying not to let it slip out of his blood soaked hands, and with a courage he didn’t even know he possessed, he got to his knees and fired over the top of the counter. If he hadn’t seen the look of terror in the eyes of the boys who were crouched next to him, he didn’t think he could have done it, but he knew he had to try something. He tried not to think about the fact that these were not zombies he was shooting at, but people. Just like him, probably just desperate, starving people, trying to protect themselves. But Charles couldn’t think like that, he couldn’t afford to.

 

A little way in front of him he could see Mick, using a table as cover, his own gun in his hands, aiming of the top with far more accuracy than Charles could manage. It was a sight that spurred him on with relief. Now that his head was over the top of the counter, he could tell the gunfire was closer than before, but less frequent, like ammunition was running low and they had to make it count. Even when his eyes adjusted, Charles couldn’t tell where they were, the disorder of the room offering them both shelter.

 

It was why he barely had time to shout a warning to Mick as a figure appeared from seemingly nowhere, barrelling into him from the side, knocking him onto his back, making him drop the gun. Charles didn’t even check to see if his attacker was armed, or whether the gunman was still on the other side of the room. He wasn’t thinking at all as he watched Mick struggle, trying to push the far bigger person off of him, kicking out with his legs and his elbows frantically.

 

Moving with a blind feeling, he found himself with the barrel of his gun pressed against this unknown person’s head, shouting a warning. In that moment he knew he would have pulled the trigger, his mind unable to think of whether of not this man was innocent, whether or not he had someone waiting for him, someone relying on him. All he could see were Mick’s eyes, wide with fear.

 

“You shoot, and there’s one for you as well,” a voice said behind him, and Charles felt his blood run as cold as the gun he felt pressed against the back of his own neck. His senses and his rationality came back to him, as he felt his limbs go numb as he knew that one wrong move would be fatal. Like he was seeing what he was doing for the first time, he looked down at the gun in his arms, and his finger trembling as it hovered by the trigger, knowing that if he’d had second longer, he would have shot.

 

Powerful disgust washed over him, but he didn’t drop the gun. The four of them stood in a stalemate, Mick lying on the ground, his hands raised in surrender, breathing hard, looking past whoever was holding him down, staring at Charles instead. The two of them stared at each other like they could wordlessly work out a plan, some way to escape, but with the two of them stuck, and Jüri injured, he had never felt more helpless.

 

“Alex,” the man holding down Charles finally spoke, breaking the ice cold tension that had settled over them. Distantly he could hear Juan and Jüri, the latter clearly panicking while the former tried to calm him down, and get him to sit still by the sounds of it, “They’re just kids.”

 

Whoever was behind Charles didn’t move though. So Charles stayed where he was. Closing his eyes as he heard a click from the gun pressed to the back of his neck, whether they were turning the safety on or off, he couldn’t tell.

 

“Alex,” the man said again, more urgently this time.

 

“Just put your hands up,” the man behind him said, like he was thinking very hard about what he was doing. Slowly, Charles raised his hands, holding the gun in one, trying in vain to hide how badly they were shaking. The gun was wrenched from his grip, and only then did Charles feel like he could turn his head to get a look at the man.

 

He just didn’t expect to recognise him. And from the shock on his face, neither did he.

 

“Charles,” he whispered, so quietly, he only really understood what he was saying from reading his lips. He supposed he didn’t look much like he had the last time he’d seen him; his hair was too long, he was too skinny and his appearance was a little more than unkempt. But between trying to survive and working out where their next meal was going to come from, haircuts and washing his clothes had somewhat fallen to the wayside. Then again, Alex looked like an entirely different person from the person Charles had waved goodbye to as he’d picked up Pierre before a night out in his flashy car with his equally showy sunglasses covering his eyes. But he was certain that the man standing in front of him, still pointing a gun at his chest, was one of his brother’s best friends.

 

“Fuck me,” Alex dropped the pair of guns to the floor with a loud clatter, and pulled Charles into his chest in a tight hug. Ordinarily he wouldn’t have dreamed of hugging Alex, they were distant friends at best, but the relief of a familiar face was overwhelming and he found himself returning the gesture just as fervidly. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, but when he opened them he was met by the sight of his stained hands holding onto the back of Alex’s shirt and remembered.

 

“Jüri,” he said, pulling himself from the embrace and turning to Mick, who was now stood up, standing beside the other man – whom Charles did not recognise – looking very confused by the turn of events. And not at all like he approved of Charles hugging someone who had, just seconds ago, had a gun trained on him.

 

“He got shot,” he told him, and he saw Mick’s legs try to give way as the shock hit him, but in a second he was hurrying towards where Juan and Jüri were still sat, Charles following close behind. Jüri seemed to have calmed a little, but it could have been that he was simply losing the energy to panic about the fact that he had just been shot. His entire right shoulder and most of his upper arm was now covered in thick red blood, and his face was incredibly pale, his eyes slipping in and out of focus, as Juan’s free hand cupped his face, begging Jüri to stay with him.

 

“Ollie get the first aid kit,” Charles heard Alex bark, at the other man, before he added, “Now!”

 

Mick had dropped to his knees at Jüri’s other side, horror etched across his features as he clutched at his hand, which had been lying limp by his side. He didn’t say anything, but closed his eyes, pressing the backs of Jüri’s knuckles to his mouth, holding it there like he was praying, pleading with some higher power to help them.

 

“You need to sit him up, and his t-shirt needs to come off so we need can to the wound” Alex said, his tone firm, though there was an expression on his face that told Charles he was trying very hard not to think about the fact that it was him who had done this. Without questioning who he was or what he was doing, Juan listened to his instructions, gently wrapping his arm around Jüri’s back and trying to pull him so he wasn’t slumped back against the counter so much. He mumbled a tearful “ _sorry_ ” when a hiss of pain escaped his lips.

 

“Juan I want to ask you something, and you can’t lie to me,” Jüri mumbled as Juan tugged at the collar of his shirt, trying to rip the material, clearly realising that lifting it over his head wasn’t going to work. His words were slurred and Charles wondered how on earth he had the capacity to think about anything other than the fact that he had just been shot.

 

“Yes, yes, ask me anything,” Juan muttered distractedly, clearly eager to keep him talking, as he eventually managed to tear the shirt, “Mick help me.”

 

Obliging instantly, Mick tore the rest of the material, as Juan placed his hands back on the wound, pressing just hard enough to make Jüri whimper. Mick sat back again, the soaked material held tight in his grasp, like a lifeline.

 

“Does this mean something to you?” Jüri gestured between the two of them, “Because I think I’m gonna die and I’d really like to know before I go.”

 

Charles could see Juan resisting the urge to smack him on the back of the head, like he had done so many times before, instead he just settled for a disbelieving laugh, more hysterical than cheerful. The sound of footsteps made him look up, and he saw the other man, Ollie, running back towards them, a large green bag slung over his shoulder, a white cross stamped on one side. He placed it on the floor beside Alex, and the two of them began rooting through it, pulling supplies from it and tearing open the packages. He wondered for a moment how on earth Alex knew what he was doing, before he remembered Pierre had once mentioned that he attended the medical school at the university they both went to. And even a trainee doctor was better than what they had otherwise.

 

“You’re not going to die,” Juan said weakly.

 

“I might,” Jüri shrugged, making his face contort with pain again.

 

“Don’t be stupid,” he was clearly trying his best to sound mad, but the tears on his face and the wobbly sound of his voice shattered that illusion.

 

“You haven’t answered my question,” Jüri said as Ollie tapped Juan on the shoulder, motioning for him to let him take over. With a look of great reluctance, Juan drew back, but he kept one of his hands on the side of Jüri’s face, stopping it from lolling to the side, as it seemed to want to do.

 

“Yes, of course this means something to me,” he said, sounding like he was impatient and even annoyed at the boy whose clammy cheek he was stroking with his thumb, but Charles knew him well enough by now to hear that was he was saying was genuine, “You mean everything to me.”

 

His answer seemed to satisfy Jüri who smiled lazily, his expression only changing when Ollie leant him forward to check the other side of his shoulder, looking exceptionally calm and focused given their current situation. He bit down on his bottom lip, and Charles could see his fingers turning white where he gripped Mick’s hand.

 

“The bullet is still in there, there’s no exit wound” Ollie said setting him back to his original position very carefully, as Alex handed him a bandage, “It could be plugging a major artery or something though, I wouldn’t want to try take it out on my own.”

 

“We can leave it for now, until we get help,” Alex said, pulling a bottle of water from the bag, unscrewing the lid and handing it to Juan, who in turn offered it to Jüri.

 

“Can you do that?!” Mick asked, sounding alarmed, and Charles saw that he too had fresh tear tracks running down his cheeks, shining where the light caught them.

 

“It’ll need to come out eventually, but he’s lost a considerable amount of blood already, we don’t want to make it worse,” Alex explained his voice sounding halfway calm. Ollie had by this point secured the bandage over the wound, and was instead working at wiping the blood away from his shoulder and torso.

 

“He’s gonna be okay though?” Juan asked Ollie, wiping at his face with the back of his free hand, not seeming to notice that he was smearing blood across it. The desperate expression on his face elicited one of utter sympathy on the one of the man he was talking to, enough that he felt compelled to reach out and pat him on the back.

 

“Hopefully. We need to keep him warm and let him rest, we’ll keep an eye on him don’t worry,” he reassured him, taking a blanket out from the bag and gingerly wrapping it around Jüri’s shoulders, before asking him, “Can you stand?”

 

He nodded, but he needed the help of both Ollie and Juan to get him to stand and was unsteady on his feet once he was up. With Alex leading the way, the two of them steadily followed, helping Jüri along. That left Charles and Mick to gather up the rest of their things.

 

There was a numbness that overcame Charles as he picked up Jüri’s bag, and the gun which he had dropped earlier. His body moved as his brain commanded, but his mind was somewhere else entirely, like it was a separate entity, floating on some different plane of existence. It reminded him of the way he had felt when he had first come to the hotel; shell-shocked, dazed and his whole body shaking, exactly the way it was now. He was about to go to follow the other four when he looked over at Mick and saw that while he had picked up Juan’s things and his own, he was stood staring at the remnants of blood on the counter and the floor, the ruined remains of Jüri’s shirt still in his grasp.

 

“Mick,” Charles said softly, nodding his head in the direction the others had gone, managing to get the German to move and walk with him, dropping the tattered t-shirt, leaving it behind.

 

Alex and Ollie had set up camp in an empty classroom, with every sign that they hadn’t been there long. There were two sleeping bags set up at one end of the room, a spare one sat rolled up, propped against a chair. Two large backpacks sat on top of a desk, with an old school style radio lying beside them.  Alex was in the process of unpacking the spare sleeping bag, presumably for Jüri, while Ollie sorted out some food. Charles and Mick dumped their bags before joining the others.

 

Charles spent most of the afternoon explaining to Alex what had happened, while hearing his side of the story. As much as he might have fleetingly hoped, he had not heard from or seen anything of Pierre. Their story was very much the same as his, hiding out, moving only to search for food or things they desperately needed. There was something that told him that there was more to it than he was letting on; like how they seemed to have enough supplies for three people. And why Ollie spent hours fiddling with the radio, trying to get a signal rather than joining the conversation.

 

Though they appreciated the food and new company, and Charles was grateful for the familiar face, it became apparent that the day had taken a toll on all six of them. Alex suggested they pull the sofas in from the office next door so they would all have somewhere to sleep, but Charles knew he had done more than enough for them, with sharing their food and clothes, and he was clearly exhausted.

 

In the end, him and Mick took the blankets out of their rucksacks and headed next door, leaving Juan to keep watch of Jüri as he slept, not that they could have told him otherwise, there was no making him move from his side. The office was tiny, with only a desk and a chair, and two sofas facing each other at the far end, next to a window with no curtains that looked out onto the small playing field at the back of the school. The sun was just beginning to set, as it had been doing earlier and earlier as winter approached, and they decided against turning the light on in case they drew attention to themselves.

 

Charles’ bones felt heavy with emotional exhaustion, but even once he lay down and wrapped himself up in the blanket, sleep would not come.  He had washed his hands some hours ago, but when he caught sight of them he was sure he could still see scraps of blood caught under his fingernails. And his ears still rung like someone was firing a gun right next to him. The panic which had settled under his skin the minute he had heard gunfire would not leave, his heartbeat still beating too fast for him to relax.

 

“Charles?” Mick whispered into the total darkness which had taken over, making him jump a little, having assumed he would be asleep. Though, he should have known he wouldn’t be, given that he rarely slept as it was.

 

“Yes?” he whispered back, not sure why he was keeping his voice so quiet, there was no one else in the room to wake, and he was fairly sure that the noise wouldn’t travel through the wall and wake those sleeping in the next room. He just heard Mick sigh in response, a weighty sound that somehow expressed exactly how Charles was feeling as well.

 

“I’m scared,” he eventually said, his voice small.

 

“Me too,” Charles admitted, though he had been scared for a long time. Ever since he had gotten that call from his mother. Ever since he had watched as their contact with the outside world crumbled. And ever since he had left Pierre. He had been terrified for so long he wasn’t sure if he knew how not to be anymore.

 

“Seeing Jüri hurt like that, I-,” he cut himself off, clearing his throat. Instead of carrying on his sentence Charles heard shuffling and the sound of Mick getting to his feet. In the dim light, he could just see him approaching, the blanket wrapped around his small frame, that somehow seemed even tinier when he looked so young. Charles sat up, making room for Mick.

 

In the way that only he could, he surprised Charles by taking the seat and immediately leaning his head onto his shoulder, his entire body leaning against Charles’, seeking something, some kind of comfort or consolation from the touch. He could only think to wrap his arms around Mick, pulling him as close as he dared, needing this as much as he did. He didn’t think about why he needed _this_ , and why he needed Mick.

 

“You need to breathe Charles,” Mick mumbled, pulling his hands out from around his torso and placing two fingers to the side of Charles’ neck, feeling the rapid pulse beneath his fingertips. It was only at his words that he realised that his ragged breaths were verging on hyperventilation, and his chest ached painfully as it felt like the air was being squeezed from his lungs by two vice-like grips.

 

“I can’t,” he gasped, drowning in that feeling of hopelessness. He wanted so much to go away, to change, his mind couldn’t actually take stock of what was making him feel like that.

 

“Here,” Mick said, taking one of Charles’ hands and placing it on his own neck, where he could feel the even rhythm of his breathing. Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on that gentle sensation and that alone. The feeling of suffocation lessened, until it was just a dull ache that curled around his ribs.

 

 

Eventually they drifted asleep, their bodies awkwardly tangled together. But Mick’s warmth and his steady heartbeat which Charles could feel through his shirt made it possible to feel just a little less afraid.


End file.
